Prose & Poetry

I wonder if I can write a MCRWVBL*PM poem anymore. It’s been years. Let’s try: Yaode,

What are words But evidence Of what occurred thereafter Indirect fruits of labor To savor The

It wasn’t obvious Didn’t slip away suddenly Gradually, in tiny motions Myself and I parted ways

When I lay under the moon, she sings to me.In gentle warm tones, like rain outside

I am morally bankrupt—so Cheatin on myself/ stealing from myself—shaming me. And the to compound my

I found a hoe in the grass, Black sleek handle, crusty mud on the metal. I